• Skip to primary navigation
  • Skip to main content

James M. Redwine

  • Books
  • Columns
  • Events
  • About

three-season porch

A Wee Mousie’s Revenge

February 15, 2018 by Jim Leave a Comment

I can’t relate in a family newspaper my very first thought as I slipped on that icy stoop at JPeg Ranch and crashed precipitously into the large stone behind it. As I felt my left kidney complain about the cruel blow, my mind was in the pure reaction mode. Contemplation of the irony involved arose only after I realized I was not dead. Peg later said I must have actually landed on my head as there appeared to be no lasting damage.

But as the Good Book says, “In the beginning …” Last Friday morning’s near rendezvous with mortality began about 5:00 a.m. when I was shaving and heard Peg shriek, “Jim, get down here!” As I had experienced that tone for years I went ahead shaving thinking she probably had some task in mind for me that might be able to be avoided if I feigned deafness.

Peg stormed into the bathroom with the same attitude I remembered my drill sergeant had in basic training. “There’s a mouse in the sticky trap behind the commode in the laundry room!” I figured this was not going away but held out a glimmer of hope the mouse may have managed to escape and, therefore, so could I. I made no reply.

“You (why me?) need to get that thing out of here right now! And take it out to the burn pile. Do not even try to just throw it in the trash until the trash men come next week.” She is always at least one bad decision ahead of me.

Gentle Reader, you may recall that last Friday we still had the frozen remnants of ice and sleet from Mother Nature’s assault. Most of it was melted but some had re-frozen. Unfortunately for me the clear, invisible ice still covered the path out to the burn pile and most importantly the deck and steps leading to the path. Hold that thought.

Resigning myself to my spousal fate I checked behind the commode and found one fairly normal sized mouse looking at me with what appeared to be a respectful appeal for clemency. I picked up the trap and mouse with my left hand and headed out the three-season porch to the deck. Everything looked okay to me so I stepped down off the deck onto the large white stone step which also looked clear. Well, it was clear, clear ice.

Faster than the falling stock market I ended up crashing on my left kidney into the stoop and wishing I’d pass out. I didn’t. I first processed the similarity between the excruciating pain I was currently feeling and the only slightly more exhilarating level brought on when I broke my leg skiing. Once I finished cursing the darkness I began to contemplate why I had not just released the mouse and let it slip on the ice. Instead the mouse pulled away from the now crumpled trap and as I helplessly watched it looked back over its shoulder with an expression that appeared to me both sardonic and sarcastic. It did not hang around to offer aid or comfort.

After about ten minutes of writhing on the ice-covered ground and trying to figure out how I could parlay the situation into some advantage against Peg, I struggled my way back into the house seeking sympathy. Peg said, “I do not see any blood and, more importantly, where’s the mouse?” That was when the poem by Robert Burns, Ode to a Wee Mousie, came to mind. “The best laid plans of mice and men often go astray”, or in my case, Peg’s best laid plans for me.

Oh by the way, not only was Peg about as sympathetic as a traffic cop in Alabama when you have an Indiana license tag, but when I went to see Dr. Lee he took one brief but professional look and said, “You are not dying, it’s only an ugly bruise. But if you want me to, I’ll call Peg and tell her you cannot do any chores until Spring.” Unfortunately, he was only kidding.

Share this:

  • Click to share on Facebook (Opens in new window)
  • Click to share on Twitter (Opens in new window)
  • Click to email this to a friend (Opens in new window)

Filed Under: Females/Pick on Peg, Gavel Gamut, JPeg Ranch, Personal Fun, Weather Tagged With: burn pile, Dr. Lee, drill sergeant, falling stock market, frozen grass, Good Book, ice, James M. Redwine, Jim Redwine, Mother Nature, mouse, Ode To A Wee Mousie, Peg, Robert Burns, spousal fate, Spring, the best laid plans of mice and men often go astray, three-season porch, ugly bruise

A Rare Day

June 9, 2017 by Jim Leave a Comment

James Russell Lowell (1818 to 1891) was the American poet best known for, “And what is as rare as a day in June.” The term “rare” is often used by poets from Lowell to Shakespeare to mean “fine”, that is, good. In Lowell’s poem The Vision of Sir Launfal, Lowell prattles on about perfect days with green grass and giddy flitting critters. He celebrates “dandelions blossoming” and “happy creatures” visiting us in droves. Apparently he was not visited by Southern Indiana’s Buffalo Gnats, giant mosquitoes and a spouse who views the appearance of June as the starting gate for indentured servitude by husbands.

I dread June each year because I know Peg is convinced Mother Nature’s sole purpose for me is to spend June battling vicious insects while doing yard work and cleaning out our nine year old above ground pool.

This past weekend while I sat in repose on our three-season porch drinking coffee Peg announced, “Jim, it is June (I knew that) and the gods ordain the pool must be opened.”

I responded, “Uh.”

Peg was already gathering gloves and Clorox and stiff brooms. I felt my entire summer oozing away in the sludge of a winter’s worth of slime that had accumulated in the pool.

About the only pleasure I received was my stifled glee when Peg raised the trash can I had placed over the pool’s pump and a Tyrannosaurus rex disguised as a mouse jumped out. That’s the highest I had ever seen Peg jump until about ten minutes later when as we pulled off the plastic pool cover a spider the size of a saucer scurried past her hand.

I looked at the dark goo in the pool and suggested either the EPA and/or NSA should be notified. It looked to me as if the release of the frightening biosphere contained in the bottom of the pool might need disinfectant that only our federal government has access to.

After two gallons of Clorox and an hour of scrubbing the cover and the pool with a stiff broom Peg mercifully announced we would have to allow the sun to cure what diseases we had been unable to eradicate. She also suggested we would be able to swim in this one-time cesspool next week. Not so fast say I.

 

 

Share this:

  • Click to share on Facebook (Opens in new window)
  • Click to share on Twitter (Opens in new window)
  • Click to email this to a friend (Opens in new window)

Filed Under: Females/Pick on Peg, Gavel Gamut, JPeg Ranch, swimming pool Tagged With: above ground pool, And what is as rare as a day in June, Buffalo Gnats, cesspool, clorox, James M. Redwine, James Russell Lowell, Jim Redwine, Peg, Shakespeare, The Vision of Sir Launfal, three-season porch

© 2020 James M. Redwine

loading Cancel
Post was not sent - check your email addresses!
Email check failed, please try again
Sorry, your blog cannot share posts by email.